


Sleepless in Seoul

by longleggedgit



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton is in Seoul, and he can't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless in Seoul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reallycorking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallycorking/gifts).



> Written for [](http://reallycorking.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://reallycorking.livejournal.com/)**reallycorking** a long time ago because we feed each other's bizarre fantasies.

Seoul is muggy and the smell of something bitter hangs in the air, keeping Anton awake despite his best efforts to overcome jet lag. Sometime after two in the morning he peels himself away from his bed—too hot to even think about getting under the covers—and tugs on a pair of jeans, which feel even tighter than usual in the humidity. There’s a club across the street from his hotel that looks busy, and while he’s not generally the lone clubbing type, getting a drink and watching the night life certainly sounds more promising than staring at his ceiling until the sun comes up.

He slips into the club to a few lingering glances from other patrons and takes a seat at the bar, frowning as he considers his options carefully. Probably any random beer is better than taking his chances at trying to order something more specific.

“One,” Anton says, holding up a finger and pointing at something on tap. “That.” After a moment’s pause, he adds, “Please.”

The bartender frowns, but nods, and as he starts slopping some kind of dark beer into a glass Anton notices for the first time he’s being watched. The man on the stool next to him is young, probably not much older than Anton himself, although he’ll admit he can’t really tell with most Koreans. He’d been under the impression John was 22 for weeks before Chris had enlightened him to the truth. All he knows for sure is this guy is hot as hell, and he’s staring at Anton like he’s found the Holy Grail. Or maybe he just saw _Star Trek._

Anton smiles weakly until the bartender slams a beer down in front of him and he’s forced to fumble in his pockets for some won, finally handing over a crumpled bill he’s fairly certain is three times as much as the drink costs. The bartender walks away without offering change, but Anton doesn’t really care. He’s preoccupied with trying to flatten down his frizzy hair.

“You American?”

It’s spoken in such a way that it comes off as a poorly-constructed sentence instead of casual native speech, but Anton is still startled and impressed by the sudden English. He was warned not to expect anyone in Korea to have a damn idea what he’s saying.

“Yeah,” he replies, extending his hand. “Anton.”

The stranger takes it and smiles, in a way that might be classified as pretty fucking predatory. “Yunho.”

And that’s about as far as they’re able to get, language-wise. Anton tries a few simple questions but Yunho just smiles apologetically, cocking his head and giving a little shrug of his shoulders at each one. It’s really kind of adorable, and Anton finds himself entirely smitten even before Yunho’s leading him into the bathroom and unbuttoning his fly with his teeth.

They suck each other off in a quick, messy, sweaty frenzy and it’s good, it’s really, really good, Anton hasn't had the opportunity to do something this reckless since he was in high school and he makes a mental note to take more side trips to Korea in between filming on site in Japan from now on. It continues to seem like a great idea until Yunho pulls his pants back up and opens the door to a herd of paparazzi with their cameras flashing. The last Anton sees of the guy, he’s being dragged away from the crowd by an acquaintance, tossing Anton a look over his shoulder that’s part amusement and part apology and part something Anton can’t really identify.

“Damn,” John says when Anton finally gets around to returning his calls, a couple days after he’s back in the states. “You fucked a Korean pop idol your first night in the country? Not bad.”

“It was kind of an accident,” Anton groans, taking a moment to thank the powers that be that the press coverage was much more prominent in Korea than over here. He’s not a big enough star in the states to warrant that kind of attention; not nearly as big as this Yunho guy, apparently.

“Next time,” John advises, “you should go for Rain.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Anton says. “Look, I gotta go. Call you later.”

And he does have to go, if only because he’s getting a call on the other line from a long distance number he’s not familiar with.

“Hello?” Anton says, trying not to sound too anticipatory.

“Hello,” a heavily accented voice says back, and even though Anton knows that's about as far as this conversation is going to go, he grins.

_end_


End file.
